I Don't Want To Live On The Moon
by shadowfire125
Summary: Benny has an epiphany.


_oops I've been sucked into the Lego Movie fandom. There's no going back now. I'm beyond help. Titular song sung by Joseph Gordon-Levitt._

* * *

_Well I'd like to visit the moon  
On a rocket ship high in the air  
Yes, I'd like to visit the moon  
But I don't think I'd wanna stay there  
I would like to look down at the earth from above  
But I'd miss all the places and people I love  
So although I might stay there for one afternoon  
I don't wanna live on the moon_

* * *

Benny was used to being the 1980-something space guy. As optimistic as he was, and as hard as he tried to make friends with the other Master Builders, at the end of the day he knew in his gut none of them remembered his name. He was just "that 1980-something space guy." That was okay, though. He had his spaceships. He had the stars. And it wasn't like he was completely friendless. There were the other astronauts from his realm, and they were fun people who liked him and liked hanging out with him.

Still, there was an odd disconnect between him and them, and he felt it whenever he was around them. They weren't Master Builders. All the time, no matter where he looked, he could see all the ways he could rearrange the brickwork of the universe, and they… they couldn't. It didn't mean they weren't good at building spaceships – they were some of the best! But when you see the universe in a way that is fundamentally and radically different from the rest of the people around you… it can get hard to relate.

But he was used to it. He was okay. He was fine.

When he leapt at the chance to help the Special, it was because that was the right thing to do and _totally not_ because he was desperate to be acknowledged, accepted, told he'd done good. It wasn't because he was hopelessly lonely and the emptiness in the pit of his stomach was starting to rival the gaps between galaxies.

Space was where he belonged, where he _thrived_. Hydrogen fusion pumped his heart, with stardust glittering on his nerve endings and comet tails shooting through his veins. Nothing was better than completing a spaceship, except for maybe getting to fly it. And so he thought space was all he needed.

But now he was in a café with the crew he'd helped save the world with, sitting next to Bad Cop – well, a bit more like floating, and the cop had to keep dragging him back down to the seat. Across from him were Emmet and Wyldstyle, and Unikitty was on his other side. Batman brooded at the end of the table. Everyone was talking and laughing, and he was just too happy to pay attention to gravity. Bad Cop pulled him down again and muttered, "Yer coffee's escaping."

Benny blinked and realized that his drink was slowly drifting up out of his mug. "Oops," he said, and lifted the cup to scoop all the liquid back in. Bad Cop made a harrumphing noise in the back of his throat.

Benny sipped at his recaptured coffee as Emmet said something ridiculous and Wyldstyle elbowed him in the ribs. Unikitty chimed in, shooting off rainbows and sparkles. Benny didn't pay attention to the words and just let the conversation wash over him. For the first time in memory, his mind was peacefully blank. He wasn't being bombarded with all the different ways he could make a spaceship out of his surroundings, and he knew that if he looked he would be able to see them, but he didn't feel the _compulsion_ to. Smiling faintly, he breathed in the scent of his coffee. Usually he didn't drink the stuff because it would get him _really_ ramped up (and it probably would later), but for the moment it was soothing, because he was sharing it with friends.

_Ah_, he thought. _That's it, isn't it? Friends. Really real friends._

Here were people who could see the world like he did, who understood him and accepted him with all his flaws and eccentricities. Here were people who made him feel like he _belonged_ with them.

He belonged in space, but he belonged here, too. He wasn't aimlessly drifting in the void anymore. This was his anchor. This was his _home_.

Gently, Bad Cop tugged him back to his seat, and this time, he stayed.

* * *

_So although I may go  
I'll be coming home soon  
'Cause I don't want to live on the moon._


End file.
